


Two sides of one coin

by DwarfOfManyJourneys



Series: League of AUs - Twisted Graves Edition [3]
Category: League of Legends
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates - First Words, Tags will be added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-30
Updated: 2015-09-12
Packaged: 2018-04-18 02:03:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4688321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DwarfOfManyJourneys/pseuds/DwarfOfManyJourneys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are many myths and stories about Soul Mates, about "The One" that completes your soul and understands you better than anyone else.<br/>Here are some of them and all involve a certain criminal duo...</p><p>Or: Another take on AUs nobody asked for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Marks on your skin

**Author's Note:**

> Don't stop me now, don't stop me- cause I'm having a good time, having a good time~  
> *cough*  
> Seriously though: I love soulmate!AUs, I love Twisted Graves and I'm the one posting all their shipping trash here :D  
> So on we go! Also, check out KaisaSolstys work, because the quality is much better there and we sail on this ship together.

When they first met, none of them thought of soul mates.

They were sitting in a dingy old bar, patrons smoking and drinking, while the bartender served a whiskey or two and stared unbelieving at two card sets claiming full house. "Well... this is awkward. Do I get to shoot ya, or the other way 'round?" Graves laughed and grabbed his rum. On the other side of the table, the man called Tobias chuckled in a dark voice and leaned backwards. "How about no shooting, hotshot. Why waste time and energy, when we could use our talents a little more... _productive_?" Graves studied him for a moment: Lean, agile, cunning. Brown eyes under a curtain of equally brown hair, which was braided back flat against his head. His shoulder prickled for a moment, but Graves could tell with a quick once-over, that this guy did not have the match to his mark. So, business partners it was.

A few months later they were thick as thieves and making money out of it. Their initial respect grew even deeper and while most thought them mated, they only shared a good laugh about it and their crew slowly learned to keep their opinions to themselves. Once Graves was nearly positive, that Tobias considered, but none of them asked the other and it was too personal a thing anyway. No matter how little respect they had for other folk, **this** was an exception they made.

"Malcolm! This is madness! Get ya head out of ya ass and come back with us." Graves turned to his partner, who stood soaking wet before him and had that pleading look in his eyes, that left Graves with an uneasy feeling. "Tobias. We might be partners, but I won't be stopped by the whims of ya. You're not my soul mate or somethin'. So get in or get lost." He knew that was a low blow. Tobias squared his shoulders and turned around. "You're right. I'm not. But **someone** is and ya won't make them happy by getting killed. Suit yourself." Graves felt anger and pain rumbling in his body. "I WILL. JACKASS!"

Years later Graves met him again. Tobias was a changed man himself by then, going by the alias "Twisted Fate" and wearing fancy leather clothes as well as a hat. His new _trademark_. Graves felt that tingling in his shoulder again. "Tough luck, Mal. That ain't gonna happen after all that shit." He mumbled to himself, as he readied Destiny, oblivious to the short blink and stare of Twisted Fate. "Fate? You okay buddy?" Ezreal asked his companion, who shrugged and grinned. "Never been better. Now what about that card game, ya spoke of?"

And many years later, they stood united again, as Gankplank's armada lay destroyed in the Bilgewater Bay and the two of them found themselves soaking wet and injured on a battlefield. "Here is that hat of yours." Graves said, as he reached out to his... _enemy_? **Friend**? Who took it with endless grace and inspected the surroundings. "We need to look for that gun of yours." Graves paused, then declined. "Can always find a new one-" "NO. Ya can't!" Fate nearly exploded, the first raw and true emotion in ages readable on the trickster's face. Anger. Sadness. Despair. "What the fuck, man? It's just a weapon... my favorite, granted, but still..." TF stormed up to him and peeled off his jacket, showing him his shoulderblade. A perfect image of Destiny bloomed from the skin and Graves could not resist to touch it, feeling Fate shivering under his fingers. "All these years... why did ya never-" "Because ya DID NOT!" TF - no, Tobias - turned back around and glared at him. "Since we've met, ya always shot down the idea of **US**. I get it, you know? _It's unrequited._ Fine by me. But... Destiny ain't just any gun. At least not for me." Graves stilled for a moment, then started to peel off his shirt as well, presenting his scarred back to Tobias. "Look, ya jackass. Not like I had a clue." Long, slender fingers danced over his marred skin, right over the place where he knew the picture of a worn, leather hat with a tucked in ace of spades card on display. He felt the chuckle more than he heard it, but he joined in anyway. The first _real_ laugh in a long, long time, as he grabbed the thief's clever hands in his own and looked at the surrounding chaos.

"Took us long enough, don't ya think?"


	2. Words

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for taking so long, real life is kind of chaotic right now ^^'  
> I apologise and try to redeem myself by posting Twisted Graves stuff.  
> And it was time for some soulmate action :3

When Tobias Words appeared, he did not know if he should cry or hang his head in shame.

His mother had told him about soul mates and their deep connection, smiling fondly at the front of their boat, where his father sat.  
A fine script curled around her left wrist, stating "May I ask the most astounding girl for a dance?" and Tobias always wondered, what his first words to his mate may be. 

And so he had waited eagerly for them to appear, listening to the other children, who got "Excuse me, mister" or "Could you pass the water, please?" and dreamt of a person, kind and caring, just like his mother.

Before she left him. Before they ALL left.

Tobias felt the burning sting of tears on his face, bruises all over his body and his voice hoarse from screaming. "Come back! Please mom! MOM!"  
She would not even look back. 

At her own son, now an exile, just because he dared to oppose robbers and thieves.  
He hiccuped.  
Their stupid rules, that left them with barely enough to live, rules that told to endure instead of defending.  
He just could not stand it anymore and that alone was his crime. 

The river folk did not use force, it went with the flow, just like the serpentine river, that they lived and died on.  
And they left behind a young, scared boy, covered in scratches and bruises, that would never see his parents again.

Gingerly he lifted his shirt to get a look at his wounds, when a crude handwriting caught his eye. 

Hastily he reached into the cold river water to wash away the grime, so he could make out the letters left on his skin.  
His heart sunk and he made a noise like a wounded animal. 

_"Bet ya regret it now, ain't ya?"_

He staggered to the road, steps unsure onshore and without a clue, where to go. Bet ya regret it now... his face lost all childishness.  
He did not and would not regret. And if that words were ever uttered to him, well... he would be prepared by then.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Malcolm never asked about Words, because he had absolutely no interest in them.

So what, some lass got a connection with him? Tough luck, he ain't stoppin' for no one.  
He remembered, when his Words appeared one night he was sure he just got wasted and tattooed or something. 

_"Most things I regret don't get me killed."_ pranged in a flourish script over his heart.  
Way too fancy for him anyway. 

A whore once read it, when she patched him up and muttered something along the lines of "Poor girl."  
Well, Malcolm was no fan of his Words either. Not that he cared, but getting his mate killed upon meeting? Just his luck.

 

It was an old hag at the harbour, that got him thinking.

He was out of money again and looked along the pier, if one of the anchoring ships could use a deckhand for the day or maybe even a less decent job, he was not that picky right now.  
An old woman sat on some stairs to his right, repairing a fishing net with a bone needle and mustering him with slightly milky eyes. "Laddy, help an old woman, will ya?" and gestured towards the net, that had caught on a piece of driftwood. He shrugged at started to peel string after string from the offending wood. 

"Such a nice young lad, ya mate will be pleased." He pulled a string a little too forcefull and nearly snapped it.  
"Ya know nothing, granny. Me mate will die because of me." The fisherwoman tutted and grabbed his hand with her bony one, turning it up and studying his palm.  
"And while that be true, I see more than that. Your bond will be strong and lasting, if you ever learn to listen, Malcolm Graves." He snatched his hand from her grip and stood, taking a cautious step back. "Who are ya? I never told ya me name!" He curled his fists, as the woman smiled innocently. "A friendly reminder, that not all is as it seems. Take care, stubborn son of the sea." 

A shout made Malcolm swirl around, as some dock workers toppled over some barrels, but when he turned back, the old hag had vanished along her net. "Weird." he scoffed and carried on.

He forgot the warning the next day, but he decided not to wait for something to happen, but look for trouble himself. He was not suited for a decent life anyway.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

When they met, they did not speak with each other as they were dealt into a game of poker with the local patrons.  
One by one the patrons lost, until only Graves and Tobias stayed in the game. The dealer asked both to show their cards and... "Two four-of-a-kind aces? Are you kidding me? Cheaters! I want me money back!" One of the patrons yelled and all men went for their weapons. 

At one time, Graves stood back to back with the riverman and grinned over his shoulder. "Bet ya regret it know, ain't ya?" The man behind him froze, before both had to seek cover. Over the sound of bullets and pistols it was hard to make out the answer. Something about things that get you killed, well, Graves could not argue with that, men of their profession not really known for their long lifes.

_That man was his soul mate._

With his heart hammering in his chest, Tobias answered over the table, he was hiding behind. But when his eyes sought for a reaction, there was...none. He put aside the hurt, to deal with it later, when less bullets were flying around. Even if it was one sided, this was all he had in this world. So he would make sure to keep this stubborn son of a bitch alive.

A few hours later, when they had caught their breath and sat in another bar, he offered the man called Malcolm Graves a deal, a partnership both of them benefit from and kept his grin in place, when his partner shook his hand and went on drinking. He would be content with this, he thought and drank as well.

It was not enough.  
Surrounded by the lifeless bodies of their crew, all slain in the vain attempt to get Graves' stubborn ass back, he despaired and wept in the pouring rain, his screams unheard. As he stood, he felt the familiar ache of leaving behind a part of himself and with a last glance towards his unachieveable goal, he turned and sought for a new path in life.  
Tobias' Words burned against his hipbone, reminding him, that THIS was his destiny after all and the image of Graves angry face morphed to turned backs on a boat as he refilled his tankard again and again.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Twisted Fate was different from Tobias.  
He took everything in stride, always had a taunt or grin on his lips and most of all: He did not lose. Not in games, nor in life. Fate was independent, free as the wind and he liked it that way. And as time went by and the League of Legends rose, he took his hat and cards, ready for another gamble. Till Graves decided to ruin his fun. Again. But this time, he met TF and not Tobias, and the card master did not feel hurt at all.

After years of pain and endurance, Fate was sure to overcome every obstacle in life with a charming grin and a winning hand. He miscalculated on this behalf, as facing Graves on the Rift used up more energy than he thought possible. He envied Ezreal and Lux for their easygoing nature, capable of fighting earnest and all out against each other one moment and being that disgustingly happy couple right after the end of the match. Since Ezreal was one of his friends, he was forced to hear all about it and while he grinned and played along, deep down he could not help but envy the young man. Every time he fought Graves, every time he saw him fall and not get up, his Words stung and a pang of regret rattled his heart.

Well, there was not much he could do about that.  
Graves was one hell of a bull-headed man, if he could not stop hating him till now, he would continue to do so till his last breath. But whatever thought troubled TF at night, he carried on, grinning, cheating, winning. He had no reason to mourn, his mate may hate his guts, but he lived and after years of uncertainty Fate did not check his Words daily, because Graves would not die before confronting him. Small a comfort as it was, beggars can't be choosers. 

Some days he puzzled over his bond with the outlaw, would the other feel his death? Soulmates sometimes shared pain, emotions or thoughts, but a one-sided bond may still cause a reaction, he mused. Certainly not the rumored 'Soulmates die closely after each other'-nonsense (that did not even happen to happily bonded people, but rumors remained), but he had no ways of finding out, at least none he would willingly take.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

He remembered his first words to Graves, as they were chained together and about to be executed in the very water he was born on and the irony did not get lost to him.  
A river man lives and dies here. 

He just wished he could have spared Graves the same fate. 

A nudge at his back caught his attention, as Graves managed to sneak a card back to him. A way out. "Bet ya regret it now, don't ya? Trying to save me stupid hide every time." It tucked at his heartstrings to hear his Words once again, as the last words Graves wanted to share with him. He managed a sardonic smile and replied with confidence, his hands whirling the card as his magic spiked. "Most things I regret don't get me killed." 

And with that, he was gone.

 

What did he just say?  
Graves was too busy with his inner chaos to use the distraction and got pulled underwater, thoughts still going on and on. 

_That were his Words._

He had felt so nostalgic and spoke what first came to mind: his first conversation with the elusive thief. But did TF catch on and repeat HIS first words? Or did he merely answer? A clearly uncomfortable, but determined Fate appeared before him, trying to free him, while fighting against the pain of his bleeding shoulder and the terrors of the deep.  
In the end, Graves had to haul his sorry ass back to the surface.

As Fate coughed and retched, Graves closed the gap between them and pulled at his shirt. "Your.Words." He growled and tugged insistently at the offending piece of clothing, as TF took a defensive, if weak position. "Malcolm, stop it. What in the name of the river spirits has gotten into you?!" Graves nearly ripped his own shirt in the attempt to show the reluctant man his Words.

"A decade, Tobias! I want to know RIGHT NOW, if you wasted a whole decade of our lifes!" 

The card master glared at him, but pulled his shirt up to show his own Words. "I? You did not react at all! I thought it was one-sided! Why the Void should I -...?" he abruptly stopped as Graves gripped his hips and moved a thumb over the crude writing, shivering despite the burning chaos around them. The outlaw leaned forward and laid his forehead against the other man's hipbone, his breath ghosting over the revealed skin, causing the mage goosebumps. 

"Mal..." The kneeling man shuddered and sat back, his face conflicted. "I always thought, I get my mate killed upon meeting them. And when we met... I kind of...could not make out, what you were sayin', ya know? Busy punchin' assholes." 

TF exhaled loudly and began to snicker, his whole body shaking with laughter and his grin back on his face. 

As his hat floated beside their makeshift boat by a miracle and Graves gave it back to his rightful owner, the marksman could feel the laughter bubbling up as well. 

"Decades, man! Wasted." Long, slender fingers danced over his chest, right over his Words. "And all the wasted opportunities." 

TFs eyes were full of mirth, magic and something more primal and Graves could not help but love that look. He took the leaner man in a possessive grip and grinned just as dangerously.

"And what do you have in mind, partner?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a bit closer to the canon!verse, so I don't feel too confident about it.  
> Hope you liked it anyway :)

**Author's Note:**

> My writing is too compact T.T  
> But the next one is already longer and it's not even finished, so... till next time? :D


End file.
